Against the Grain
by Jon Dane
Summary: There are two things Rye's good at. One, being a Trainer, and the other, well, he doesn't really talk about that. Ever. Just that he doesn't like it but he's good at it. But he's stuck. So, he does what any sane person would do-he runs away to start his own Trainer adventure. He is good at it, after all. But really, he should have figured that he's only good at two things.
1. Onward and Forward

Author's Note:

There're just things in the world that one can't forget. Well, for me, it's Pokémon. It was my childhood, watching the anime, begging the parents for a Nintendo handheld, playing the game, and wishing, _wishing_, that somehow they were real. That never really went away, just muted like many of a child's hopes and dreams.

Ha! So next best thing, right? Write a fanfic about Pokémon.

So this is my story. It's about a guy, and a whole bunch of other people, and of course, Pokémon! Nothing is mine but the characters in this tale. Be warned though, that this story is mine to tell, and anything goes. So, enjoy!

* * *

The core of a caged animal is the want to break free. No matter that he is tamed, as long as there are bars that separate him from the rest of the world, there is nothing but the desire to run. Run and be free.

But sometimes, the caged animal remains that, even if he runs as far and as fast as he can.

XLX

Rye crept down the stairs, his socked feet barely making noise against the wood. He made sure to skirt the sixth step down since that always creaked. He didn't want to risk waking anyone up. He didn't want to let this chance slip through his fingers. He wanted out of this house.

He wanted _away_.

Rye breathed a sigh of relief when he cleared the stairs and no lights went on upstairs, no voices called for him and told him to _fucking go to bed already_. He quickly went to the living room and slid the window open, thanking whoever was watching over him that he'd managed to oil the hinges on the window and no one had noticed anything.

He threw his shoes out, the faint rustle of leaves telling him they landed in the bushes and cushioned the noise a bit. He then dove headfirst out, rolling to control his momentum and closing the window softly behind him.

He felt a soft tap on his lower leg and recognized Venero, his Treecko, staring up at him in the darkness, his gold eyes reflecting moonlight. Calm and cool as always, but there was hint of relief there, the barest of emotions peeking through. Beside him, Rostik, his Snivy, looked up at the house with a disdainful sneer, his red eyes narrowed, making faint hissing sounds in his chest.

They were coming with him. _Away_. Before they were forced to do something they didn't want, before they became the things they hated the most.

Rye grabbed his boots and laced them up, the worn steel-toeds hugging his feet. Rostik had his backpack wrapped in his vines, handing it up to him. "Thanks, Ros."

Rostik hissed something about not being Rye's valet. Rye grinned down at him, grateful for his Snivy who was haughty and stubborn and had a cruel streak a mile wide but Rye loved him anyway. Bipolar tendencies and thorns and fangs and claws and all.

He quickly shouldered his bag and tightened the straps, his booted feet quietly crunching against grass. "Let's go. Our boat leaves in a few hours."

Rostik slithered up his leg and settled himself around Rye's neck, vines wrapping around his arm to keep him steady as he settled in for a nap. Venero went on ahead, scaling a tree before disappearing in the branches. Rye couldn't see him well but he knew Venero was keeping an eye out for trouble and keeping most of the nocturnal wild Pokémon at bay.

He absently rubbed Rostik's scaly head, ignoring the annoyed hiss and the odd gurgling purr that followed when Rye scratched that spot on the back of his head that made him all boneless and happy. Each step brought him farther and farther from the house, farther and farther from a future he wanted no part of, for himself and for his Pokémon.

He felt lighter. Free. Something that scared and delighted him in equal measure. But he was finally getting what he wanted. _Away_.

As the sun slowly rose and the silhouette of Castelia City came into view, he began to hope. To want for something better. "Onward and forward," He whispered to himself.

XLX

Rostik kicked up a fuss with being recalled back in his Pokéball but in the end, he had no choice. A Color Alternate Snivy was pretty remarkable and he didn't want people remembering him. They'd come too far to be dragged back without a fight. They'd lose, he knew, but that didn't mean they would fall without trying.

Rye didn't want it to come to that.

So he'd told Rostik that the moment they got to Kanto, he'd buy him those gourmet chocolates that were sweet and spicy and he had free reign in the cabin. That got him a disgruntled but resigned hiss and he finally stopped dancing out of being recalled. Rye wondered idly if other Trainers had to resort to bribery to get their Pokémon to cooperate. Venero stayed out, as usual. Treecko weren't a native species to Unova but he wouldn't be seen unless he wanted to be seen.

He got past the check in by the docks, the sailor punching in tickets looking at him oddly when they asked for identification. There was his unsmiling picture on the laminated piece of paper with his trainer class and his name: Rye. No last name. But it was legit when he scanned it on the computer and confirmed his identity so the man couldn't really do anything about it.

The SS Rebecca was a small ship but it was a direct route to Kanto with a brief layover in Sinnoh. Plus, it was the only ship he could afford without totally bankrupting him.

He had papers, he had a ticket, and he had a little bit of money left. Finally, finally he was on his way.

There were only a few passengers on the Rebecca so they were off by eight o'clock. Good thing too since the docks were getting a lot of activity and he was getting antsy.

Another sailor escorted him to his cabin for the month-long journey, a nice fellow named Marty that told him that meals were three times a day and any Pokémon he might have were to be given food too. He could also roam topside, with firm reminders to stay the hell out of the crew's way.

Rye thanked him and released Rostik who took in the small cabin with the narrow bed and the bedside table where a small lamp rested with slitted eyes. There was also a small table and two chairs under a porthole and a small sink by the door, all bolted down to the ship. Rostik eyed everything with disdain and sneered at the poor accommodations.

Rye shrugged and put down his bag on the bed, glancing at the porthole when Venero jumped through and nodded a greeting at him and Rostik. Rostik ignored his of course and used his vines to straighten the bedclothes before jumping at the upper left corner and settling in for a nap. "I'll wake you when it's time to eat."

He didn't get a response but he knew Ros heard him anyway. He took a deep breath and had to sit on the chair, his legs feeling shaky all of a sudden. Venero jumped on the table and sat on his shoulder, his paw patting him on the head in a gesture that meant everything was going to be okay.

"I'm scared, V." Rye chuckled weakly and rubbed the back of his neck with an unsteady hand. "The trouble with that's I don't even know what I'm scared of."

"Treecko, treecko. Tree-tree-treecko."

Rye sighed. "I guess you're right. You and me and Ros. We're fine. Everything's going to be fine."

Venero grunted and jumped off his shoulder, going to the open porthole to get some time in the sun.

Nothing really changes, Rye thought. Ros was sleeping the day away and V was in a nice sunny area. They were on a ship to a far land where no one knew them. A fresh start. A change.

And Rye smiled. They were fine_. Everything's going to be fine._

XLX

Rye was on deck, sitting on a chair bolted down to the floor. A fishing rod sat between his legs, a line cast on to the side of the ship. Rostik and Venero were somewhere, exercising their freedom from the cooped up quarters below. Rye hadn't meant for them to stay that long inside, indoors, or in their Pokéball if they got too sick of the confined space, but he didn't want to risk it.

It was a week and a half now since they cast off Castelia Harbor, and they were stopping off Sunnyshore Harbor in Sinnoh for supplies and such before finally heading off to Vermilion in Kanto.

Rye had to admit that he was glad they stopped off for a little while. Rostik was getting cranky and took great pains to annoy Venero, just for something better to do. Venero took it in stride but there was just so much a Pokémon could take.

Needless to say, he'd had to break up a fight more than once during the long voyage.

Besides that, Rye found out that most of the passengers were Sinnoh-bound and the Rebecca wasn't taking anymore passengers so he didn't have to stay cooped up in his cabin. And the Rebecca's crew was a secretive bunch, especially Captain Skippy. Smuggling wine and fabric region-to-region didn't endear them to the greater governments around the world—something he'd discovered by accident when he was chasing Ros in the middle of night and stumbled upon the ship's cargo.

The Captain was there, not angry, strangely. And then he'd said words that had Rye feeling cold and tensed. "I know you. The odd-colored snake there's a dead-giveaway."

They made a deal, the two of them, in the dark space of the ship's cargo hold. Silence on both sides. Though in truth, he didn't much care what the Captain and his crew did on the sidelines. It wasn't any of his business. Rye and his team were safe here as long as they didn't cause trouble for the crew and the ship.

Rye closed his eyes and breathed in deep. Salt and sun and sea. It was different. He liked it.

He felt a nudge on his leg and found Rostik staring at him through narrowed red eyes, his pointed snout tilted up in the air. He raised his claws and made grabby hands, all quiet and silent-like. Rye grinned and scooped him up, settled him on his chest since the chair reclined.

"Snivy, snivy. Sni-sniv-sni." He said sleepily, curling into a loose coil on top of his chest.

Rye chuckled softly and stroked the fine, smooth scales on Ros's back. "Yes, your majesty."

"Snivy, sni!" Ros glared up at him, a low annoyed hiss vibrating against his chest.

"Insolence, my foot." Rye pressed hard on the scales on the base of Ros's neck, chuckling softly when Rostik shuddered and became loose-limbed, that odd gurgling-purr rumbling against him. "And I'm not a peasant."

Rostik didn't say anything else or maybe he just ignored it. He closed his eyes instead and pushed for more petting. Rye obliged him, it was a good day. And he was feeling good.

XLX

Rye woke up though he didn't know what did it. Rostik grumbled angrily and shifted in his chest, claws digging in the fabric of his shirt, biting softly against his skin. He gently dislodged Ros off his chest and placed him on a cushioned chair next to him.

He looked around, checked what it was that had disturbed his sleep. He was alone, mostly, a few sailors up on the far side deck, scrubbing and polishing. There was a battle on the far side of the ship, right near the helm, with men shouting angrily about keelhauling somebody else and scraping the barnacles off the ship's underside with the other's face. Wingull lazily drifted in the updrafts, far off, a school of Finneon splashed out of the calm waters.

He looked around, confused. He was kind of a selective sleeper, always waking at the slightest hint of danger or trouble, but he could sleep in a crowded bus or in the train without waking until he was where he was headed.

Then the line on his fishing pole suddenly tensed as something pulled at the lure, the reel hissing, spitting as the line was tugged. He stared at it in shock. The Captain had told him he wouldn't get a bite out here so near the harbor, that he'll just be wasting his time. But Rye had time to waste so he cast a line and left it at that.

He grabbed the pole and stood up, unceremoniously sending Ros sprawling on the floor and unlatched the rod from the tethered base. He whistled two sharp, short notes, calling for Venero. Venero jumped down beside him, seemingly coming out of nowhere. "Need your help with this one, bud. Get a couple of Pokéballs from my bag and then come back here."

"Treecko," Venero disappeared immediately. Rye tugged on the fishing rod, reeling periodically. He was sweating now, though it was quite chilly. Rostik hissed and glared balefully at Rye before scampering off someplace quiet.

"Don't wander too far, Ros."

"Snivy, snivy, sni." He snapped. He _clearly_ didn't like being awakened from his nap. "_Snivy_!"

"I'm sorry, okay? And yes, I am the boss of you." Rye cursed under his breath when the line went taut and lurched. He pulled again and grinned when he had enough give in the line. "_Don't_ wander too far."

Venero appeared with a handful of minimized Pokéballs in his paws, which Rye thanked him for with a smile. Venero watched him coolly as he reeled back the rod, the Pokémon on the other end of the line fighting him every step of the way.

Rostik was somewhere behind him, muttering and hissing angrily.

It was close, Rye could feel it. He stepped a foot back and forward with the other and _heaved_. With a mighty tug, Rye hauled the Pokémon out of the water and pulled it up on deck. Rye blinked at the tiny Pokémon glaring up at him, its smooth wing-like fins flapping on its back for balance, while it cleverly used its tensile tail to bounce up and down on the deck.

It was a Horsea, a relatively harmless Pokémon, popular with the more experienced Water-type Trainers because aside from the fact that they were cute, they were usually docile and easy to train and their evolutions were extremely powerful.

Rye hadn't honestly thought of getting other Pokémon to add to his team—he didn't want to subject any single Pokémon to his life, never mind the fact that Venero and Rostik had been with him for a very long time—but now that the opportunity had presented itself, he didn't see anything stopping him from getting a new teammate.

He knew he had to get the Horsea. His life was in his own hands now. He was _away_.

"V, Agility, confine. Slam."

Venero disappeared—and reappeared in front of the Horsea; the Horsea backed up and released a Bubblebeam from his snout—docile this Horsea was not. Venero disappeared again, reappearing behind the Horsea. He stood on one hand and spun, hitting the other Pokémon with a powerful Slam.

He cried out but quickly righted himself, sending an Ice Beam right at Venero. Venero dodged, cartwheeling and spinning, using his tail to jump up. The Ice Beam followed, the Horsea angrily growling when Venero easily weaved through the intense cold blasts.

"Slam."

Venero arrowed straight down and spun, hitting the Horsea right on the head. But it was as restrained as possible as the Horsea wasn't completely knocked out, merely dazed and confused. Rye grabbed a ball from the bench and threw, the capsule hitting the Horsea's body softly and engulfing him in a red light. The ball closed and shuddered on the ground before completely stilling.

Rye stared at the ball in shock. He'd never really caught a Pokémon before. Venero, Venero was his from the start. His partner in all things. Rostik had been raised from an egg.

Rye grabbed the Pokéball and rolled it in his hand, a soft smile playing across his lips.

XLX

The Horsea was _pissed_. Positively seething at being captured. Rye could work with that.

The Ice Beam meant he'd had a previous Trainer or had a sire with the move. He wasn't a Breeder but he knew that that was entirely possible. But the _dislike_ of humans in general suggested he had a Trainer before Rye captured him.

The Horsea glared at Rye but paid it no mind. "You need a name."

The Horsea spat a stream of weak bubbles at Rye. He averted his eyes and pinched the middle of the Horsea's snout, effectively muzzling him. Rye smiled slightly at the outraged look Horsea gave him and the muffled but angry trumpeting that followed, and continued speaking. "Like I said, you need a name. Hmmmm…"

Rostik was asleep, on his back, his mint green belly exposed to the sun. Venero was sparring with a crew member's Mienfoo, who proved to be as fast and as agile as his Treecko. The Horsea squirmed in his firm grip but he wasn't going to let go, not until he stopped wiggling like that. His smooth scales provided a rather slick grip but he managed.

"I'm going to call you Artur." Rye said after a while. He slowly let go of Artur's snout when he stopped moving and smiled a little. "I'm your Trainer now."

Artur trumpeted something at him. Anger and disdain evident in his tones.

Rye shrugged. "I don't care. You're my Pokémon and I'm your Trainer. Now, c'mon, I think I want to challenge the Captain. We're good together—you'll see."

Artur narrowed his crimson eyes at Rye but didn't protest to being recalled back into his ball. Rye smiled. Before the week was up, he'd win over the newest addition to the team. He was still feeling all kinds of incredible with the distance he put between him and Unova and capturing his _first _Pokémon. Artur's hostility and outright dislike wasn't going to put him off.

He felt lighter. He felt free.


	2. The Stop, the Start

Vermilion City was a huge port city with tourists littering the walkways, browsing and shopping along the stalls lining the paths to the main thoroughfares. Vendors hawked their wares, from food to souvenirs to exotic Pokémon found only in Kanto. They were mostly Spearow and Rattata, the odd Doduo.

Rye found the anonymity it provided comforting. He was jostled and shoved more times than he could count but he was happy. He was somewhere nobody knew anything about him. He was free to be whatever he wanted to be here.

His first stop was the Pokémon Center. It was vaguely north, according to Captain Skippy. He'd said that he had to acquire a Kanto license so he could participate in League functions and battle Trainers and receive money—if he won—especially if he didn't have any prospects aside from being something he was good at—a Trainer.

Rye found the Center a few hours later. He and his team got some lunch on the way and ate by the wharf, scarfing down chowder and garlic bread. The Center was the same red-roofed building as the ones in Unova, with the blocky outlines of a Pokéball sitting on top. The difference was that there was no Mart inside and the Audino that were usually the Nurse Joy's assistant were replaced by Chansey.

There were other Trainers in the Center, hanging out in the lobby, waiting in line by the booths that housed the bank of PCs and the videophones, sitting by the couches, watching a live broadcast of an Elite Four match, someone named Koga and a Trainer that looked like she was getting thoroughly outclassed with her Kirlia against a Venomoth.

Rye headed for the counter, where the Nurse Joy was handing out a tray of four Pokéballs to a young Trainer. She smiled at the boy and said, "Here you go, your Pokémon are fighting fit."

The boy nodded in thanks and clipped his Pokéballs to his belt and ran out of the Center.

Rye stepped up to the counter and cleared his throat. Nurse Joy looked at him and smiled. "Good afternoon, how may I help you?"

Rye grabbed the balls clipped to his wristband and whistled two, short, sharp notes. Venero jumped down from above, landing soundlessly on the counter. Nurse Joy started a little, shocked. Others turned curiously at the commotion then turned back to their own business.

He returned Venero and handed the nurse his Pokéballs. "Could you please check these three for me? Artur, my Horsea, he's a little scuffed up—a battle against a Whiscash that knew Ice Beam. Rostik—Snivy, he's a little… difficult. He doesn't like being touched. Venero, he won't give you problems. If you have to get them out of their balls, release Venero before the other two and he'll keep them in line."

Nurse Joy looked at him with this soft emotion that he couldn't put a name to and nodded. "They're going to be fine." She grabbed a tray and turned out back.

"Nurse Joy," She looked at him, head cocked to the side. "Uh, could you tell me where I could get my license renewed? I'm from Unova and I'd like to register to the League here."

Nurse Joy smiled at him. "Give me half an hour and I'll have your Pokémon ready to go and help you with your license."

Rye nodded. "Thanks."

He took a seat nearest the counter, between two young Trainers that looked depressed. He settled in his seat and counted down the minutes.

XLX

Half an hour later, Nurse Joy came out of the backroom with a tray that held three Pokéballs—his. Venero's ball all scratched up, the aluminum polished but with visible scars. Rye had tried his best to buff the worst of the scratches but there wasn't anything to be done with the deeper crosshatches marring the Pokéball. Rostik's ball, on the other hand, was pristine, with a green sticker on top, a serpentine silhouette that Ros made him polish _everyday_. And Artur's, fairly new and gleaming under the bright lights.

She caught his eye and motioned him over.

Rye got up and took out his Trainer Card, knowing that he had to present his old one to get a new set along with papers and official records. He wasn't worried about his family tracing his whereabouts. Kanto was the _last _place they would think to look for him. And everyone was keeping a low profile, they wouldn't make waves. At least not yet.

He wasn't stupid though. He knew that it'd only be a matter of time before something slipped through the cracks and they found him. Ideally, he would be strong enough to fight back.

Win.

Nurse Joy smiled at him and pushed the tray closer. He grabbed the three Pokéballs and released two of his team. Venero looking rejuvenated, his gold eyes carefully eyeing the people and the Pokémon, wary and tensed, ready for the first sign of trouble. Rostik, haughty and poised, snout tilted, his red eyes narrowed as he stared at the Center. He'd spend some time with Artur later, by the pool out back or by the sea.

Ros slithered up his arm to his shoulder, glaring at the Nurse Joy and the Chansey waddling over to her, as stack of papers secured in a folder balanced on her stubby paws. He scratched under Ros's chin and ignored the indignant hissing.

She gave him some forms to fill out for registration to the Indigo League. He couldn't apply for a citizenship right away since that required permanent residence for at least eight years, five if he worked for the League here. He didn't have plans that far into the future but it was something to think about. There were other regions. He'd heard Hoenn was a nice place.

Rye gave her his old card and filled out the forms, Rostik still glaring at the Nurse as she slotted his card in a computer and began the process of outfitting him with an Indigo League Trainer Card.

Name, age, trainer class. Birth date, birthplace…

_Parents—unknown_

Lies, but ones he was willing to tell. It wasn't unusual for Trainers—kids, especially to not know their birth parents. Being a Trainer was a hard profession but it was lucrative. All it took was having someone to sponsor him or her, usually a Professor, a starter Pokémon, and an iron will.

"Excuse me, Rye?"

He looked up at her and frowned.

"Would you like a new picture for your Trainer Card?" She was smiling. There was understanding in her tone, the way she looked at him. "I could certainly use your old one but—" She grabbed his card from the slot on the computer and showed it to him. Unsmiling, dark-eyed. Detached. Like he looked right now. "A new card in a new region deserves a new picture, don't you think?"

Rye opened his mouth to tell her to leave it alone, that the picture was fine when he… stopped. V and Ros were staring at him now, questions in their eyes. He chuckled as Venero cocked his head to side and grumbled inquiringly. This was a fresh start.

He smiled at Nurse Joy, the curve of his lips slight. Slight but there. "I'd like a new one please."


	3. Ham

Rye walked out of the Vermilion Gym with a shiny new badge resting on his palm—he had to remember to get a badge case later on.

He was frowning at the badge, an eight-pointed gold star with an orange octagon at its heart. It shone where the light hit it, scattering amber and gold on his palm.

The Gym Leader was a tall guy named Surge, a war veteran, he recalled, who specialized in Electric type Pokémon. He was a brutal opponent, having no care for weakness. Rye had noticed that a lot of Trainers had come back out of the Gym crying or near tears.

When Rye had challenged him, Surge sneered at both his unevolved Pokémon, asking him if he really wanted to battle him. Rye had nodded silently. Rostik took offense to being called _unevolved _and immediately jumped into the battle field, hissing and spitting and calling Surge all kinds of things that had him silently gawking at the things coming out of that mouth. He blamed hanging out with sailors and their Pokémon.

It was a three-on-three battle with no substitutions, no time limit. Surge battled with a Raichu, an Electabuzz, and a Magneton. The Raichu and the Electabuzz had been easy, with Ros knocking out the former with a Vine Whip-Wrap combination that had the electric mouse falling unconscious the moment Ros _squeezed_. The Electabuzz had been taken out with a Leaf Blade and being repeatedly smacked down against the arena floor with Ros's vines but not before hitting Ros with an Ice Punch that had him limping and a massive Thunder that paralyzed him. His ability had activated but with his speed crippled, Rye didn't think he'd be able to do much of anything other than being a semi-static target.

The challenge was the Magneton. Rye recalled Ros and had Venero taking the field. It was a hard fight, with the Magneton constantly bombarding the field with huge blasts of Shock Wave and using Lock-On and Thunder. V dodged the worst of the blasts and countered with Dragonbreath.

In the traditional Gym Challenge circuit, Surge was the third. He didn't know how new Trainers dealt with this. Surge was strong, his Pokémon reflecting that strength. The ones he'd seen exiting the Gym and waiting anxiously in the Center didn't look new either. And those were the ones that lost.

By the end of it all, Venero was barely standing and his Overgrow ability had kicked up his Grass moves. Rye had beaten Surge.

Surge had laughed, loud and long and heartfelt. "Ruthless _and_ efficient. I like that." He'd said.

Rye thought it was fitting, true. He wished it wasn't.

Surge gave him the badge, a TM for Shock Wave, and money.

He went back to the Pokémon Center and had V and Ros checked out. V was burned in places where the Thunder had hit and Ros sustained the most damage but it was nothing that she couldn't take care of.

His team checked out and fighting fit, he headed straight for the library in the Center, checking on which city he should go next. He wasn't familiar with the region and he wanted to remedy that as quickly as possible.

He released V and Ros, after extracting a promise from the latter that he'd be on his best behavior. Ros had looked offended and wandered off with an indignant hiss, like he wasn't always on his best behavior. V had opted climbing up the wall to the bank of windows that let plenty of sunlight in. He was glad that two of his were Grass types, able to photosynthesize and recover from injuries and replenish their strength.

So, Rye read up on any and everything about Kanto that he could get his hands on and spent the better part of six hours holed up with a couple of books rather than staring at the computer sitting for Trainers to use, pausing to feed his team and get something for himself.

He had a lot of options, apparently. He could go north to Saffron and challenge the Gym and from there, he had the choice between North to Cerulean and West to Celadon. _Or_ he could follow the route east of Vermilion to a huge river system that cut through most of Kanto and head south, to Fuschia.

Rye rolled Artur's minimized Pokéball in his hand, thinking that he'd head south instead, toward Fuschia so he could train with Artur. And after that, head to the Seafoam Islands. V and Rostik would definitely get some training in the near deep freeze temperatures of the caverns there. They were used to the cold, having spent the majority of their lives in Unova, but it wouldn't hurt going there. Preparation was key.

That decided he called V and Rostik. He put the books away and headed to rent a room for the night, one with an aquarium for Artur. He took a shower before bed and toweled himself dry—helping himself to the towels on the closet under the sink—and putting on underwear before going under the covers to sleep. V and Ros slept on the bed with him, V leaning against the headboard with one knee drawn to his chest, the other stretched out before him and Ros coiling into a loosed ball, his edged tail over his snout, on the pillow near his head, while Artur swam around the aquarium a few times before curling up on the silt bottom.

Rye watched his Pokémon as they succumbed to sleep, making sure that he'd locked the door and latched on the deadbolt, checking that he'd shut the windows and drew the curtains shut. Their balls were in easy reach, right on the bedside table near the shut-off lamp.

Satisfied that everything was fine, he closed his eyes and slept.

XLX

Rye set off the following day, after getting supplies from the Mart—Antidotes and Paralyze Heals, Super Potions for Artur since V and Ros could photosynthesize anyway. Nonperishables, several bottles of water, item balls, a few more Pokéballs, and a few feet of good quality rope, the braided nylon fiber ones.

His pack was a little bit heavy and he knew that it'd be at least a few weeks before he reached the river system. He wasn't that worried, he'd travelled before, under harsher weather and more dire circumstances. He was well-prepared and his team was well-rested now, only his own stupidity could possibly jeopardize his travels.

Rye said his goodbyes to Nurse Joy since it felt the kind of right thing to do. She'd helped him and Rye felt grateful to her. _To another person_. It was strange. Gratitude wasn't a foreign concept to him—he'd felt grateful before but not to people.

Nurse Joy smiled and told him to be careful. Chansey waving at him from behind the counter. Rye awkwardly shuffled his feet before nodding and heading on his way.

By midmorning, he was at the outskirts of Vermilion, having stopped along the way to battle a couple of Trainers with Magnemite and its evolutionary line with Venero and Artur. Vermilion remained a major entity in the energy industry, supplying power to most of the region and in several places in Johto, so it was almost a given that the majority of the Trainers there would have Electric type Pokémon.

Artur was at a type disadvantage but Venero covered for him, often shouldering attacks and allowing Artur the chance to hit hard and fast with well-aimed Bubblebeams and encasing their opponents in ice. Rye knew that they were going to have to fight against more Pokémon with type advantages against him to catch up with V and Ros who were at a much higher level.

They'd work on that along their travels.

Venero walked beside him, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed and head tilted back as he soaked up the sun peeking through the buildings. He didn't have trouble walking though. Venero was a very unusual Treecko.

As soon as Rye started for the worn dirt path along the route, he finally let out Rostik from his Pokéball. He appeared in a flash of light and sound, looking imperiously at his surroundings, stamping his feet on the ground and slithering up Rye's leg to curl himself around his usual spot around his neck.

He had V fight off the more disagreeable Pokémon that tried to attack them, Rattata and the Psychic Drowzee, Sandshrew that thought it was funny scratching and shooting poisoned barbs at them. Ros on the other hand was having fun swatting the Spearow and Fearow that swooped down from the sky, dragging them down with Vine Whip and slamming them against each other in midair, all from the comforts of Rye's neck.

It was a pleasant walk all in all.

XLX

Ham Leggerband turned twelve this beautiful day. Ham turned _twelve_ which meant, other than the fact that he was practically a grown-up; he could finally start his _very own journey_. The day he'd been waiting for his entire life. It wasn't really all that long but to a twelve-year-old that was practically an eternity.

He had his Trainer Card, all shiny and new and laminated, his face smiling up at him, _proof_ that he was a certified Trainer registered in the Indigo League.

He was packed and ready with Pokéballs and healing items and food and water, and toiletries and extra clothes, spare underwear, a tent and a sleeping bag and a small pillow, and a small collapsible umbrella for when it rained since it was the middle of spring and rains were pretty common then—all inside his brand new backpack.

So, that morning, after his sister kissed him happy birthday and they ate a special birthday breakfast—a stack of pancakes drowned in maple syrup with _frosting_—he set out on his journey with Kirk, his faithful Rattata and his best friend in the whole world.

It started out fun. He was excited and Kirk was excited. They were going to travel around Kanto and get badges and meet new Pokémon and battle strong Trainers.

Ham was almost vibrating with the feelings inside him.

Kirk battled most of the wild Pokémon, getting injured a little bit but he had Potions and Antidotes for that. He won some but they'd had to flee when the stronger and scarier creatures got annoyed by their presence.

And then there was his first Trainer battle.

He was having lunch with Kirk, a sandwich for him and a juice box while Kirk had Sitrus mash, his favorite food. The tree they were sitting under was wide and shady, with a cool breeze drifting lazily, making the grass bend a little.

Ham enjoyed the calm and quiet. It was getting exhausting running around and fleeing from wild Pokémon. He knew that Kirk was getting exhausted too. He was yawning every so often and seemed slower than he was normally.

Ham knew that Rattata weren't the sturdiest of Pokémon, nor did they possess any considerable amount of stamina so Trainers never did consider them any good other than pets or gifts for younger kids—and even then they were mostly derided—but Ham knew that being a Trainer meant rising above stereotypes and weaknesses. It was about helping a Pokémon unlock their potential and helping them grow and develop.

Ham petted Kirk and smiled when he wagged his tail side to side in a blur of motion. "We'll go to Vermilion and then our first badge, how's that sound?"

Kirk chittered excitedly and hopped up and around. Ham laughed and grabbed their things, making sure that Kirk's ball was clipped to his belt, in case of emergency.

They were a few hours to Vermilion and the Pokémon Center so they hustled before nightfall. It was a good thing that they lived near the city.

They kept to the main dirt path, making sure to stay as quiet as possible so they didn't disturb the wild Pokémon. Ham wanted to avoid the scary Drowzee around here. They were Psychic types and no one smart enough would try to anger a Psychic type. And Kirk wasn't really strong enough to fight a Psychic type like that.

"Hey you, fatty!"

Ham jumped up when someone shouted. He looked around and realized that the guy running up the path was talking to him. He frowned and tried to tell himself that the guy didn't really mean it. He wasn't _fat_. He just had a bit of baby fat left on him and his face was round. He was short too so he _looked _fat. His sister said that traveling would trim him down—which was good news—and he'd grow into his own self with the experiences he got along his journey.

It still hurt though. Other kids made fun of him back home—because he was a little bit round and short and his starter Pokémon was a Rattata. He wondered why people were so mean when he didn't do anything—at least he thought he did—to deserve being pushed around like that.

Kirk stared up at him with narrowed eyes and snarled at the guy walking toward them.

The guy was tall and skinny, dressed in one of those tank tops that his sister liked to wear when she was working around the house, and loose pants with chains wrapped around his waist for a belt. He had a shaved head and his nose looked a little bit crooked. His eyes were black, mean and scowly. His mouth was unsmiling as his eyes, and he was clutching a Pokéball in his hand. "I challenge you to a battle!"

Ham knew he was going to have to battle Trainers sooner or later but he didn't want to with Kirk on the brink of exhaustion and so well away from a Pokémon Center. He bit his lip and looked at Kirk, who was snarling at the rude man.

The guy growled low in his throat—Ham didn't know humans could make that sound so it took him aback—and glared at him. "I don't have all day, fatty, now bring out your Pokémon and let's have that battle."

Ham glared right back. That was just rude. No bones about it. "Kirk, go!"

The guy stared at Kirk and laughed, loud and long and obnoxious, like an old car that wouldn't start before sputtering and chugging. "Jeez, kid. That's your Pokémon?" Then the guy grinned, the smile alien, too wide for the man's narrow face. Ham felt scared all of a sudden. He dropped the ball on the ground and released a Golduck who looked as scary and _evil _as his Trainer.

Kirk tried his best, he really did, and Ham did too but it wasn't enough.

The Golduck just _played _with them. Ham started off things with a Quick Attack, knowing that Kirk's best asset was his speed. The Golduck and the Trainer laughed, stopping Kirk with Confusion and flinging him off to the ground.

Ham knew they weren't going to win this one so he tried recalling Kirk back in his Pokéball. "I forfeit."

"No, you don't." The guy sneered. "Golduck block off that recall. Confusion." The attack stopped the beam of red that would recall Kirk. It didn't stop there. The Golduck aimed eyes glowing blue at him and destroyed the Pokéball in his hand, the capsule shattering in his palm by an unseen force. It hurt, shards embedding in his flesh but it couldn't compare to the _hurt_ as he watched Kirk get pummeled and he couldn't do anything to stop it.

And all he could do was shout wordlessly as the Golduck _toyed_ with Kirk.

It was Ham's fault. He should've just refused. The guy could beat him up because of that but he couldn't have forced him to battle. There were rules against that! And he forfeited! He would've given the guy all his money _to just stop this—_and his heart froze when he heard a sickening crack and Kirk stopped struggling. There was nothing to do.

Nothing but _scream_.

XLX

"V, make sure the Rattata is fine. Ros, incapacitate that Golduck."

Rye shrugged off his backpack and ran for the Trainer, watching out of the corner of his eye as Ros slithered up a tree and extended his vines, whip-quick, wrapping it around the Golduck's throat and jumping off the branch he was standing on, dragging the Golduck choking, and importantly, breaking that Confusion attack.

He ran for the Trainer, clipping him square across the jaw and pulling his right arm straight. He twisted, hard, and watched, in a detached sort of way that he'd dislocated the guy's shoulder and the guy was screaming loudly. As loud as the kid had when the Rattata was being beaten to a pulp.

Rye saw what the other Trainer was doing and he _knew _that he had to step in. Help in any way he can. He knew there was reason he didn't like people very much.

The guy collapsed on his knees and was clutching his shoulder. Rye stomped on the guy's stomach and kicked his hand off his shoulder, and if his steel-toed brushed just a little too hard on the injury, well, no one was going to say anything about it. He stepped on that hand, bone crunching under his boots as the guy cried out and screamed. He would've killed him, Rye knew himself well enough to know that. The other Trainer was just a _kid_. But he had to have priorities.

"V? How's the Rattata?" He had to shout over the fallen man's pain and the whimpers coming from the kid as he kneeled next to his Pokémon, hands moving to touch the slumped over body but not knowing if he should, afraid that his Rattata _wasn't_ there anymore.

"Treecko."

Alive. Good. Rye ran for them after grabbing the guy's Pokéball belt. He saw Ros staring idly at the Golduck hanging from the tree with his vines, choking and gasping, wheezing as he tried to claw at the vines. "Knock him out. Quick." The Golduck wasn't a true Psychic so he'd had to have full concentration to use his abilities. Just in case.

Ros tightened his vines and the Golduck gave a final wheeze before slumping in his restraints. Ros looked over at him, looking imperious, like a nobleman plagued with ennui. "Snivy, snivy. Sni-sni-snivy."

"Not yet." Rye said, kneeling next to V as he checked the Rattata's pulse. Unsteady, erratic but alive. The front leg was twisted at an unnatural angle. "But if he makes any sudden moves, kill him."

"Snivy?" Ros asked, a malevolent light dancing in his eyes even though the rest of his face was impassive, like speaking about a slow, lingering death was everyday conversation fodder.

"No." Rye said firmly. "Not yet." He then turned to Venero. "Get my bag. Quickly."

He had to set the leg before it healed that way permanently. Pokémon were resilient creatures and they healed faster than humans. The angle meant it was a clean break, no bleeding beneath the Pokémon's fur.

"Is-is-is h-he g-g-g-going to b-be…"

Rye looked at the kid. He looked miserable. His round face was red and blotchy, his eyes swollen, tear-tracks marking his cheeks. He stuttered, his voice hitching with each word, trying to push past the tears. Rye gave him a nod. "He's going to be fine," Venero handed him his bag. He opened it and grabbed a Revive and his first aid kit. "V, watch the guy."

Venero nodded and stalked toward the guy who had never ceased whimpering, curled over in the fetal position, staring at his broken hand.

Rye stared at the kid again. His hand was bleeding. "What's your name?"

The kid took a deep breath, calming down upon hearing that his Pokémon was going to be fine. "H-Ham. My name's Ham."

Rye nodded. "I'm Rye. Clean your hand." He nodded toward the bleeding appendage. Ham stared at it blankly before complying and getting supplies out of his bag. "Now I need you to tell me if there're any Psychic types that know Teleport around here."

Ham was staring at the Rattata as Rye worked, grabbing two collapsible splints and bandages, laying a Revive within easy reach—it was his last one from Unova but the Rattata needed it more. Ham was washing his hand with water, dousing over the cuts, shiny pieces of metal embedded on his palm. He picked it out one by one, leaving a small pile by his feet. That kind of injury hurt but Ham looked like he didn't feel anything. He washed it again and wrapped it in a shirt, blood blooming like crimson flowers against the white fabric.

Rye stared at the broken front leg and felt the length of muscle and fur again. He twisted back quickly, resetting the bone and feeling around the area again to make sure he got it right, no bone shards, still no bleeding. The sound made Ham gasp and sob; Rye ignored that and put the splints in place, wrapping the bandages around the splints and the leg securely. "Focus Ham, Teleport-capable Pokémon?"

Rye grabbed the Revive and snapped the medicine capsule in half, the fine powder falling in a brilliant stream over Rattata's mouth. It worked quickly, the Rattata gaining consciousness and stirring weakly. Rye didn't stop Ham when he cried out and said, "Kirk!" But he did stop him when he bent to pick him up.

"Not yet. Don't move him yet." Ham looked up at Rye with a broken expression. Rye sympathized but pushed the emotion back for now. That wasn't going to help anybody. "We need to get him to a Center quickly. Potions won't fix this. Kirk may be alive but he could be crippled for the rest of his life if we don't hurry."

Ham nodded and wiped his eyes with his forearm, breathing quick and deep. "Natu. There are wild Natu around here but they're pretty rare."

Rye nodded and whistled for Venero. "Accompany him. Find a Natu, quick. Ham, go with V. He'll find you that Pokémon. Capture it and hurry back." Rye turned to Ham and found him staring uncertainly at him, torn and afraid and emotions Rye couldn't name. "Go Ham. Kirk needs you. I'll take care of things here."

Ham bit his lip and scrambled to his feet, getting several Pokéballs from his bag, spilling his things and nodding at Rye. "I… trust you. Please take care of Kirk." He kneeled next to his Pokémon and touched his head briefly. "I'll be back soon, okay? Then everything's going to be alright again."

Ham turned and ran, Venero catching up with him quickly.

Rye stared at their running forms, unworried since he knew V would get them that Natu and quick. He felt Kirk stir and smiled softly at the Rattata who was watching him cautiously. "Rat. Rattata." He pushed the little mouse gently down when he made a move to stand up. He growled but stayed down when Ros hissed at him.

"V will protect him, don't worry."

"Rattata. Rat-rat-rattata." He eyed the man who was curled up in the fetal position, his torso curved protectively over his broken hand. Kirk snarled and tried to stand up again, teeth bared, eyes wild, guttural growls coming from his throat that no Rattata had ever made before him. Rye pushed him down again.

"Don't worry about him," Rye sat on his haunches and put Ham's things back in his bag, zipping it up immediately, aware of eyes on him. "If he makes a move, I'll kill him myself."

The man whimpered again, his eyes wide and scared and pained, hate bubbling beneath the fear. Given the chance, this man would kill him; kill his Pokémon while he watched. Rye stared back flatly, grabbing the man's Trainer belt from where he'd left it. Five Pokéballs, one empty.

A large part of him wanted to release one of the Pokémon, skin whatever appeared and rip it apart in front of the man. Just to see how he liked it when his Pokémon were the ones held powerless, being broken slowly, piece by piece by piece.

He looked at Rostik who stared at him questioningly. He wouldn't judge, wouldn't look at him differently. Rye _wanted_ to do it.

What stopped him was the very small part of him that asked, _Are you really any different from them?_


	4. Bonds

He was dreaming. Strange, since he couldn't remember if he'd dreamed when he woke up. Maybe he'd forget this one too. Maybe this happened to all his other dreams. He wasn't really sure.

_You are an odd one._

The voice was somewhere, everywhere—around? Echoing. It was dark in the dream and he couldn't really see, feel anything. Just a peculiar awareness that said he was _here_, existing in this plane. "How do you mean?" He could speak, at least.

The voice appeared—reappeared? It was like he'd always been there, anyway. The voice—he—was small, covered in green light with little starbursts in a myriad of colors, pulsing and spinning like a thousand suns. _Just what I said. Odd. You are an odd one._

He didn't say anything. He stared at the voice. The little thing was familiar, like he'd seen him before. A drawing, a picture. Stories or legends or something else. Big eyes studied him, the little thing's body bobbing lazily in the dark. The silence was heavy. "You're not supposed to be here." And that, felt like a truth. He was positive of this.

_I know. _He said unapologetically. _But I was curious. You are something different. Odd, like I said._

"But what does that mean?"

_Your first impulse is violence—to hurt before bad things happen. But… you do not do it on a whim, or a need to alleviate boredom. _He said, moving close, big eyes intent on him. _I have seen much and been through much, and yet there are very few like you. Odd ones. With leashed violence in their blood._

"Is that a bad thing?" He felt that he should care but he didn't feel the need to react to the thing's words. He was strangely empty of any feeling.

The thing disappeared but his voice echoed still. Like a drop of water splashing in a dark, solitary room. _Like I said, there are very few like you. But none of you have ever been bad—_

And then he woke up.

Rye stared at the clock, four. Like always. He stood up went to the bathroom, did his business, brushed his teeth. He didn't dream, like always.

XLX

Rye was waiting for Ham outside the room his Rattata, Kirk, was put in. V was sitting with him, leaning against Rye's leg, as still as he was. Ros was standing in front of the vending machine down the corridor, his face scrunched up as he looked up at the huge selection of junk food behind the thick glass as he decided what kind of snack he wanted to buy.

Rye had given him some change and extracted the promise of not breaking the machine under _any_ circumstances. Ros had promised, albeit reluctantly, and then went on to his grand quest of choosing the best junk food out of everything on the display. He thought that Trainers didn't really feed their Pokémon junk food but that thought was distant. Ros ate healthy enough and the snack was so he'd sit _still_ for a few. He just thanked whatever's out there that Ros didn't really like sweets. Small graces and all that.

God help them all.

Rye didn't really know what he was doing here waiting. Ham and Kirk didn't need him anymore. He'd helped them already with Kirk's leg and getting that Teleport-capable Pokémon so he should be on his way to Fuschia, challenging the Gym Leader there and training with Artur. It'd take at least two months to get there on foot. He knew he should get going, but here he was, waiting.

"Treecko-treecko."

Rye sighed. "I know. But leaving… feels wrong."

V kept his silence and jumped on the chair next to him and crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes never leaving the door to Kirk's room. A bare few seconds later he looked up at Rye and said, "Treecko-tree. Tree."

Rye chuckled weakly, his hand resting on Venero's head. "Maybe. But would that be so bad?"

V gave a short shake of his head and smiled a little. And for Rye, who'd very rarely seen his best friend show much emotion, that was a gift.

Ros came back a little bit later with a bag of spicy potato chips brandished triumphantly between his claws. He looked up at Rye and handed him the sealed bag, wanting him to open it up. Rye smiled softly and obliged.

Ros grabbed the opened bag and slithered up the seat next to him, looking decidedly happy as he crunched on the spicy-salty chips. He offered some to Rye and Venero when he demolished almost half, holding out the bag with his mouth and claws dusted red from the pepper flakes. They declined and Ros hissed happily and finished the chips off, licking salt and pepper powder from his claws with relish, nosing inside the bag for crumbs.

Rye grabbed a bottle of water from his bag and opened it, silently handing it to Ros. That was a mistake. Ros drank _some_ and poured water over his head, drenching the plastic chair, the excess dripping off to the tiled floor. He ended up emptying the bottle. And then he proceeded to play around in his mess, rolling and splashing until the water turned murky.

It happened so fast.

Rye sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "And now I have to clean up this mess and give you a bath. The salt'll get between your scales and then you'll be itchy and uncomfortable."

Rostik grinned up at Rye and splashed some more water. "Snivy. Snivy, snivy. Sni-sni-snivy-sni."

His right eye _twitched_. "You could've just asked for a bath, you know?"

"Snivy, sni?" A sly smirk, those red eyes dancing with an unholy glee.

Rye narrowed his eyes and poked Ros on the chest. "No more junk food for you."

"_Snivy_!" He stopped splashing and looked at Rye with wide, terror-filled eyes.

"No." Flat, final.

Ros stomped his foot on the chair, splashing Rye with dirty water. He grimaced and glared at Ros when he raised his foot to do it again. He lowered it slowly but then kicked water at his shirt. He snickered, covering the sound with his claws but Rye heard it anyway.

"No more junk food for a _month_."

Ros gasped; shocked that he could utter such blasphemy. "_Snivy, sni_!"

"Not gonna change my mind." He stared in dismay at his shirt.

"_Snivy, snivy! Sni-sni-snivy! Snivy-sni_!"

"Calling me a gutless peasant won't change it either."

"_Snivy-snivy_."

"Where do you learn these words?"

Ros hissed and went quiet for a couple of seconds. He bowed his head and snapped it back up, waving his claws frantically in the air, making small, pitiful hisses in his throat. On cue, tears started streaming down his cheeks. "Snivy! Snivy! Snivyyyyyyy!"

"Pokémon cruelty my foot. You're fed, groomed regularly, I spoil you against my better judgment—nobody's abusing you." He pretended he didn't see the way the nurses and doctors and the Chansey eyeing them with concern. He stared Rostik down who saw that no one was paying them any significant attention.

He abruptly stopped and glared at Rye. He crossed his arms over his chest and turned away, snout titled up in the air. "_Snivy_."

"Apologizing in that tone doesn't convince me anymore than being called a peasant."

"Sniiiiiivy!"

"Whining won't help either."

Venero looked at his Trainer and his teammate, sighing inaudibly and closing his eyes. This was going to take a while.

"Snivy-snivy. Sni. _Vee_."

That. That—he wasn't going to take that lying down. "I'll show you despot, you little—"

"Snivy!" He ran down the hall, wrapping a passing Chansey in his vines and putting it in Rye's path. Ros laughed and waves his vines in the air, calling him _rigid_ and _please take out the stick up his ass so he wasn't unbending all the time_. Among other things.

Rye moved around the stunned and bewildered Chansey, apologizing as he ran. "I'm going to hang you by your little claws when I get my hands—_get back here_!"

Venero sighed and followed them out.

XLX

Kirk was asleep but Ham was very, very awake. He was sitting beside the incubator-like machine Kirk was placed in, soft blue blankets cushioning him, a small pillow keeping his leg elevated, with wires leading from his chest area connecting to beeping medical equipment that monitored his heart. On his lap, Natu was asleep, tired from the battle with a very strong Pokémon and using a subsequent Teleport to take seven living beings to Vermilion.

Rye, the guy that saved Kirk's life was a pretty experienced Trainer from what Ham could remember in that hazy, warbled time when he thought Kirk was dead and he'd felt like the world was ending and everything was falling apart and _it was all his fault_.

He'd patched up Kirk, fixed that broken leg that had made that awfully sickening _final _crack, and made it so Kirk was going to be able to walk and run and battle again.

.

But Ham really didn't care about any of that, he was just glad that Kirk was _alive._

His eyes burned but he forcefully shove the tears back. He wouldn't cry. There wasn't a reason to. Kirk was fine and he was fine and the jerk was going to prison and have his license revoked.

When Ham and Rye's Pokémon had gone back after just ten minutes of searching for Natu, they'd rushed back and he had been ready to order the Teleport when Rye had him wait a moment and had his other Pokémon, a snake thing that was probably a Grass type drag the jerkface and his stupid Golduck with them. He'd been surprised and angry but Rye just looked at him and said, "Trust me."

And somehow, someway, Ham did. He'd already done so much for them. If he couldn't trust the guy that saved Kirk's life, well, who _could_ he trust?

Ham closed his eyes and breathed deep, holding Natu closer against him, curving his body around the little bird. "Thank you." He said. Natu sleepily nuzzled against him but didn't wake up.

He picked at the bandages on his right hand. He'd almost forgotten that he was hurt too. A doctor treated his hand, plucked out the smaller pieces of metal stuck in his cuts, stitched him up, and bandaged his hand. He'd been given medicine and pain killers though he'd insisted he didn't need them. He couldn't really feel it, not then, not now.

Ham sighed and continued watching Kirk; the beeps of the machine making his eyes feel suddenly heavy. He didn't wake up when Rye went in the room with Nurse Joy, his snake Pokémon dangling in his grip, knocked out and wrapped in duct tape.

XLX

"Ros, keep them from hitting Artur. Artur, ammunition."

Ros grabbed a large chunk of ice with his vines, dragging it where Artur was firing bubbles in the air and freezing it with controlled bursts of Ice Beam. Rye was impressed, and proud, that Artur had managed to get that particular variation of Ice Beam in a few short days. A Thunderbolt glanced off the ice, shocking Ros a little but he quickly untangled his vines before he got damaged more.

They'd already knocked out the Walrein but the Clefable was bulky and had attacks that proved very problematic for both Rye's Pokémon.

"Clefable, Fire Punch!"

"Artur, Twister, loaded. Ros, far side. Stand by."

Artur dived down the pool and created a fairly sizable funnel of water and energy, the frozen bubbles, drifting lazily in the pool, got sucked up by the torrent, some breaking, some remaining whole as Artur directed all that power to the Clefable who'd stopped in her charge but kept flames burning on her paw.

"Thunderbolt, now!"

"Ros, restrict."

Ros's vines snapped out from beneath his collar, wrapping around the other Pokémon's body, aborting both attacks as she was slammed once on the ground—Ros growled and spun, flinging the Clefable toward the Twister. She flailed weakly, dazed from being slammed on the ground. The Twister hit her, ice and shards of broken ice pelting her body.

The Twister went on for a second, two, three, before it died down. Ros slithered on Rye's side of the field, Artur resurfacing and looking proud and pleased with himself. He trumpeted and breached the pool, spinning in the air once before splashing back down.

Rye smiled a little but kept focus on the battle. The last Twister had been powerful and with the initial damage Ros had done, it would have knocked out most Pokémon.

Then again, Clefable and her Trainer weren't like most. "Get up, girl. Use Softboiled!" Clefable stood up, teeth gritted and growled. She formed an egg-shaped ball of pure energy between her paws and swallowed it. Her injuries had all but disappeared, but she was panting. Rye was glad that it didn't cure exhaustion. Small mercies and all that.

"Artur, ammunition again. Ros, Leaf Blade." Ros slithered up to Clefable, his edged leaf tail already glowing a bright, bright green. Artur did as he was told, firing off bubbles and freezing them.

"Clefable, Thunderbolt! On the ground!"

Ros heard the directive and aborted the Leaf Blade, slammed his tail on the ground and jumped up, a vine shooting for Artur down by the pool. Artur squealed in surprise but relented as Ros pulled him out of the water. The Thunderbolt hit a split-second later, travelling to the pool, melting most of the ice and making shards of electricity crackle off the stone and tiles. Someone on the sidelines had thought fast and had put a Light Screen around the field.

Ros arrowed straight down Clefable, her body crackling with residual electricity. Rye whistled, caught Ros and Artur's attention. "Send him first. Artur, Ice Beam."

Ros's vine cocked back, Artur braced, breathing deep—and threw. Artur trumpeted loudly, merely a foot apart from Clefable before releasing an intense stream of frigid energy. The Ice Beam hit, pushing Artur backward even as Clefable attempted to brave the attack.

"Slick slash." Ros grinned—Artur passed him by, still holding onto the Ice Beam but Rye knew not for longer. Ros's edged tail shone a silvery metal; Artur let go of the Ice Beam—Ros tucked into himself and spun, building momentum—

There was a loud smack as he hit Clefable right on the face with the Iron Tail, stopped—his tail turning bright green, using his vines to balance and slamming the Leaf Blade on Clefable's body. She cried out and stumbled, fell backward.

Rostik slithered on Rye's side of the field and plucked Artur out of the air and gently placed him on the pool. Artur looked exhausted but ready to fight, his chest heaving a little, the scales on his chest plate shifting with each breath. Ros smirked at the fallen Clefable and her Trainer.

Rye waited. Ready to call out an attack.

"You can do it, Clefable! Softboiled!"

But she couldn't and she collapsed in a faint. Rye went over the edge of the pool and petted Artur, chuckling softly when Artur jumped from the pool and spun again. "You did fantastic. We're gonna work on your endurance after you get some rest." Artur agreed and his eyes smiled up at him. They'd gone a long way. Rye recalled him with the intention of going good on his promise for that rest as soon as they wrapped up.

Rostik slithered up to him, arms crossed, red eyes narrowed, snout tilted in the air. He looked bored though a little bit scuffed. Rye scratched under his chin and said, "Fantastic." Ros puffed up and smirked. "Though the shift between the last attacks was a little bit off."

Ros glared and hissed at him indignantly. "Snivy! Snivy, snivy, sni!"

Rye chuckled when Ros batted his hands away. "Fine, fine. You were perfect. Don't let that get to your head."

Ros grinned and allowed Rye to pet him.

"That was amazing, you know?" Carey, Rye's opponent, said, Clefable's Pokéball in her hand, presumably. She looked depressed at the loss, and was staring sadly at the ball in her hand. "I'm a League contender, got eight badges and was gonna challenge the Elite Four. But you beat me."

She sighed and held out her hand. Rye stood up, Ros wrapped around his neck. "Clefable gave me a run for my money, though. She was tough." He shook her proffered hand.

Carey sighed again. "I know. But I lost. To two unevolved Pokémon. If I can't beat them, what chance do I have against the Elite Four? I'm even having doubts trying to get through Victory Road."

Rye shrugged. "It's your call."

There was an awkward, humming silence. When he didn't say anything else, Carey looked disappointed though Rye didn't know why. Then, "Any advice? I mean, you're older than me so you have to have some kind of—I dunno, pointers?"

Rye looked away, eyes widening slightly when he saw the amount of people who'd been watching in the sidelines. He frowned and turned back to Carey, who was watching him with wide, expectant eyes.

He grimaced and stared at his steel-toeds. They needed polishing. "Well… try letting your Pokémon fight by themselves, adjust your battle style with theirs. They are the ones on the field, not you." Ros hissed an affirmative on his shoulder. "Don't let them get dependent on you. You won't always be there to call the shots." Rye knew that, knew firsthand what happened to Pokémon who became entirely dependent of their Trainers. They became paralyzed, unsure of themselves in a situation that called for their own judgment.

_Handicapped._

Pokémon like that rarely survive.

Carey looked thoughtful and stared at Clefable's Pokéball in her hand. "I guess you're right… Your Pokémon didn't have to be told to dodge—they did it instinctively, like what any sane person would have done, I guess." She sighed again. "I have a lot to learn."

Rye shrugged and thanked her again for the battle before heading for the Center so Rostik and Artur could get healed.

It'd been eight days since that debacle with Ham and Kirk. Rye hadn't had a chance to really talk to Ham since then, having had his time eaten up by the police questioning him and his actions—repeatedly—training Artur, and battling Trainers.

When he did have time though, he found Ham asleep by his Rattata's side, with his Natu asleep on his lap.

Nurse Joy had told him they were getting Ham to eat and rest and bathe so Rye didn't have anything to worry about. Rye didn't say anything. Business was pretty much done in Vermilion so he was wondering why he was staying here anyway. But he did stay. And that was probably the most baffling thing of all.

Rye handed Nurse Joy his Pokémon and waited, scrolling the jobs ads on the bulletin by the counter, available for Trainers and travelers who were low on cash or wanted a break from training. He'd accepted a couple of jobs the past few days, mostly regarding pacifying wild Pokémon. He'd made pretty good money on those.

Nurse Joy came back and gave him Ros and Artur's Pokéballs, smiling briefly before hurrying to another Trainer on the other side of the counter.

Venero appeared out of nowhere and leaned against his leg, eyes on the Center lobby. Rye released Ros who hopped down the counter and started a conversation with V—bragging, boasting. Rye didn't pay them any mind, he'd break them up if it came to blows—not that it was a regular occurrence, he'd just learned to always, _always_ pay attention.

Rye figured that he could go out back again, battle or train with Rostik and Artur. He did promise that they'd work on some things.

Decided, he whistled for V and Ros to stop whatever the hell it was they were arguing and headed out. They were training today. It'd keep Rostik distracted and, if Rye paced it right, Artur caught up with V and Ros's level.

XLX

Ham was slowly making his way to the beaches at the north side of the city. It was isolated there, with sharp rocks and a sheer cliff face bordering the stretch of sand to the mainland. He'd been there before with his sister, when they visited the city. She said that that was a good place to train in Vermilion—only those that didn't want to be bothered came there.

He was looking for Rye, who'd been nothing but help to him and from what Nurse Joy had said, had been there to check up on him from time to time. Ham felt guilty about that. The guy had spent _ten days_ in the city and checked up on him and he hadn't even spared him a thought.

So, Ham was looking for him. Just to say thanks. At _least_. Ham owed him that much.

Kirk was walking with him, his leg encased in metal braces that supported but not hindered movement, with Hope perched on Ham's shoulder, tweeting at the new and unfamiliar surroundings. She didn't seem uncomfortable though, more curious and fascinated. Nurse Joy said that Kirk was fine now and it would be a good idea to have him walk on his own and keep him outside since the technology in the Pokéball would attempt repair on his leg and that would _not_ be good. He hadn't known that.

It took a few hours and half a dozen breaks but they finally got to the beach. Kirk was very tired and Ham had to carry him when they reached the sands. Kirk dozed in his arms, burrowing against his chest. Hope chirped at Kirk, concerned but Ham told her that he was fine and he was just asleep.

"_Artur, keep time with the metronome. Steady—keep that Ice Beam steady. That's it. Keep it up."_

Ham hurried to where he heard the sound of attacks being fired and Rye's steady voice cutting across the quiet stillness. He'd heard that voice in his sleep, awake, telling him that Kirk was going to be fine. It kept him from going completely crazy most times.

"_No! You'll tire yourself out that way! Steady, Artur. Pace yourself. _Keep time with the metronome."

Ham cleared a large section of rocks with a lone driftwood tree stretching spider-like limbs to the sky. He saw Rye on the surf, his Horsea, apparently Artur, bobbing gently with the waves while firing an Ice Beam at a large rock on the shore. His two other Pokémon were a ways away, perched on a large boulder, eyes closed in a patch of sunlight.

Now that Ham was here, though, he felt out of place. Hope chirped on his shoulder and nibbled his ear. He smoothed his hand over her crest, wondering if he should come forward or something. It just felt _awkward _standing there doing nothing.

So, Ham took a seat on the sand, and watched Rye train his Horsea.

XLX

He must've fallen asleep at some point since he woke up on his side, facing the beach. Kirk and Hope huddled close to him. There was a blanket covering them. Ham yawned and slowly sat up, searching for Rye, half-expecting him to have gone back to the city. The guy didn't owe him _anything _after all.

"Oh, hey. You're awake."

Ham turned to his right and saw Rye, eating jerky from a Ziploc bag. Rye saw him eyeing the dried pieces of meat and silently offered him some. Ham dusted his hands on his shirt and took one. They were salty and spicy, slightly tough but good.

"What're you doing out here?" He asked.

The bluntness took Ham slightly off-guard but Rye didn't sound annoyed or anything like that. "I just… I want to say thanks. For helping me and Kirk. And for helping me catch Hope." He touched his Pokémon, fur and feathers, their bodies warm and _alive_ against his hand.

Rye offered him a bottle of water, the plastic seal still limning the cap. He drunk a fourth and ate the rest of his jerky. Rye was quiet, not acknowledging his thanks. That was fine though. Ham didn't expect anything. He just _wanted_ some way to show his thanks even if the words didn't span the enormity of his feelings.

And then Rye spoke.

"The guy's name is Leonard Shanks. He's a wanted Trainer, apparently. He's been traipsing across the region challenging younger and newer Trainers and leaves their Pokémon for dead if he doesn't kill them outright. Why? I don't know." Rye said softly. He was rolling a Pokéball in his hand, his eyes trained on a point far in the sea. "He'll go to jail—fifty years according to Officer Jenny. His license has been revoked and the rest of his Pokémon will be rehabilitated."

Rehabilitated? Ham stared at Kirk, sleeping soundly with the braces on his leg. It would come off two days from now but _still_. "The Golduck…" He trailed off. He didn't want to sound… heartless. But maybe he was. He didn't know anymore. That encounter twisted him up, made him feel confusing things.

He hadn't known he could _hate_ that much. Not when he'd been bullied and pushed around and beat up and teased and made fun of. He hadn't known he could even _feel_ that kind of emotion.

"Dead. He tried to kill me when he woke up at the Center. Officer Jenny intervened."

Ham tried to feel bad about the Golduck dying, he really did, but the braces was still on Kirk's leg and he really couldn't feel guilty about being _that_. "Is it bad that I don't feel bad?" He asked.

Rye was silent for a moment before turning to look at him. "If it's a choice between you or you're Pokémon and a stranger? Someone or something wanting to do you or yours harm? Feeling bad is stupid and unnecessary. Don't. There's no point."

Rye's words were blunt. Hard and painful and true.

His sister had told him that life outside was different. That there were things and people and lessons that he would come across that would be hard to _understand_ much less _accept_. Being a Trainer isn't a life of glory paved with tears of fallen foes and the strength of Pokémon partners.

It was _dangerous_. It was _hard_. It was _painful_. It was _sad_.

But it _could_ and _would _be the most rewarding experience of his life.

Ham hadn't really understood that, not when he'd been sitting across from her and she was saying these things with a fervent, haunted look in her eyes, her voice soft and _edged_ like a knife. Watching Kirk get hurt and almost die was an eye-opener. He was responsible for his Pokémon, every decision he made would affect _everything_ whether he wanted them to or not.

Training _wasn't_ rainbows and sunshine and candy. He'd told himself that he wasn't like the kids back home, who'd watched the documentaries about Red, about how a ten-year-old had been able to bring down Team Rocket _and _beat the Elite Four with only his Pokémon by his side.

He was a _hero_.

But Ham was starting to think that he was a bad example too. Still, he couldn't deny the fact that he'd been charmed by that—the _Dream_.

"What're you going to do now?" Rye asked.

Ham looked up at him. Rye stared back, dark eyes cold and flat. Ham wanted to look away but didn't. The moment felt important, like the first step to something great, something bigger than himself. He took a deep breath, the sand was cool in his hands, the blanket—Rye's he guessed—wrapped around his shoulders. The sun was starting to set; the sky was this brilliant red and pink lemonade, with gold and yellow like the fur of a Pikachu. "Badges won't earn themselves."

* * *

Author's Note: Review dear readers! I wanna know what you think about this story so far, if you liked it or it sucked or whatever. Thanks!


	5. It is A Long and Loney Road

Rye watched Ham and his Pokémon walk away, getting smaller and smaller as they made their way due east, where Diglett Cave, a huge cave system made up of tunnels that looped back into each other, connected Vermilion to Pewter. The tunnels were carved by Diglett and their evolution, Dugtrio. It cut through a valley and an underground water source that led straight to the ocean.

He'd suggested that Ham get the badge there first since Surge was a particularly tough opponent. Ham readily agreed once he'd seen the influx of injured Pokémon going in the Center, with their Trainers worried and frantic or in tears.

Rye was worried for the kid. They'd spent about a week training together, doing odd jobs for Nurse Joy to make up for the lazy days in the Center when Trainers didn't really feel like battling. Ham had latched onto him, which felt all kinds of bizarre but it was a good bizarre. He just didn't know what to do or how to act. So, he acted like himself. Ham felt like a friend, or a little brother. Rye had always wanted a little brother.

But being a Trainer was a solitary job. It meant total focus, forging bonds between person and Pokémon. It was hard and it was lonely at times. But that was the path of a Trainer.

Things they both knew.

The goodbyes were short, swift. Rye had been surprised when Ham hugged him, and he awkwardly, but genuinely returned it. He was going to miss the kid.

Before they parted ways, however, he'd given Ham his spare metronome and TMs for Giga Drain and Dig. Both very powerful moves and would help him immensely with his battle with his first Gym Leader. Kirk could make use of Dig in a variety of ways and Hope wouldn't learn many attacks before evolution so it would help.

Ham had looked at him and then the items he'd handed. He'd been wide-eyed, his blue eyes shining with gratitude, tears. "This is… wow. Thanks so much, Rye."

Rye had smiled. "Keep Hope out of her Pokéball, trust her instincts and get out when there's trouble." He'd already noticed that Hope was very protective of Ham and Kirk. He knew she'd do everything in her power to keep them safe.

"I will. I promise."

"This is it then." He turned his back and looked at Ham out of the corner of his eye. "Take care of yourself. I'll be seeing you, Ham."

And that was that. He'd turned back though, just to see Ham off, even if it was just until he couldn't make out his form in the distance. He was worried but that was his problem. Because the truth was, he would see Ham again.

He could feel it.

XLX

The days passed in quiet quickly. V and Ros and Artur trained, getting stronger, better. They battled other Trainers, earning money that Rye appreciated. They battled wild Pokémon, the Ekans and Arbok in the area particularly taking an intense dislike for Rye's party. The snakes were territorial, and likely sensed that Rye's Pokémon were a threat to their claimed territory.

Day eight, they neared the gatehouse that served as a rest stop for travelers making their way between the routes. Rye could see it on the small rise he stood on, his clothes grimier than anything else, his face smudged with dust and dirt. He was tired but that was nothing new, and wanting of a shower and not just dipping into a shallow pool and scrubbing with a soapy washcloth.

He ran the rest of the way, Rostik, for once quietly napping inside his Pokéball, while V ran with him. They stayed on the worn dirt path, abruptly turning to paved cement as the gatehouse came into closer view.

It was a two-story building, with shops inside he could just see—a restaurant, a Laundromat, a surplus store. He could see a small adjunct off to the side of the building, with the universal red roof with a Pokéball logo sitting on top. Rye veered off the path to the gatehouse and went inside the small Pokémon Center. There was a line past the automatic doors, Trainers looking as worn and tired as him.

Rye took his place at the end of the queue and waited for his turn just like everybody else. He smiled slightly as Venero leaned tiredly against his leg, eyes closing and his posture slumped. "We're gonna take it easy once we get to a city, bud."

His Treecko didn't offer comment.

It was another half hour before his turn. Rye recalled Venero back into his Pokéball and handed his three Pokéballs to the nurse on the counter. They asked for identification and had his Trainer Card scanned and his Pokéballs tagged on a tray. Rye frowned at the nurse who looked at him briefly before saying, "This way, no one gets misplaced. A lot of people pass here wanting their team healed. And since this is a small facility, we have to keep a keen eye on everything."

Rye nodded and took a seat on the other side of the room, where Trainers waited for their Pokémon. Ten minutes later and he was called on the counter where another nurse handed him his Pokémon.

He decided to keep Venero and Rostik in their balls.

He jogged over to the gatehouse and entered, cool air-conditioned air making him shiver as sweat dried off his body. He jogged over to an information kiosk at the center of the floor, branching hallways leading to the shops in the building—the heart.

He asked the lady manning the kiosk where he could trouble for a shower. She said that there were communal showers at the second floor along with rentable rooms. He thanked her and dashed up the stairs.

The upper floor was set up like a dormitory, with doors on both sides leading to rooms, and at the end of the hallway, was the communal showers.

Rye sighed in relief and hurried over to the men's side, swiping his Trainer Card on the scanner mounted on the wall, a beep telling him that the fee had been deducted from his debit. He made a note to convert his winnings the past few days and deposit it in his debit. The number 313 flashed on the scanner, telling him the locker was available for his things.

The lockers were all near the entrance, a little ways away from the doors, faded grey metal about three feet tall and four feet wide each, rows and rows and rows of compartments standing like sentinels. There were a lot, but the system was fairly easy enough to understand that he found 313 quickly. He grabbed his toiletries and a towel from his bag, and shoved his backpack inside. He stripped down to nothing, shoved his boots and dirty clothes in his locker and swiped his Trainer Card on the scanner to lock everything inside—his card zipped up inside with his toiletries.

There weren't many people inside, most minding their own business while others talked—about the Elite Four, badges, the current Champion. There were older Trainers and some younger ones, looking awkward and unsure of themselves.

Rye didn't pay them any particular attention though he kept his ear open for anything interesting. Places where Trainers gathered more often than not yielded useful information. It was amazing how male Trainers gossiped more than females in a shower room.

He went inside an empty stall, shoved his things in a metal shelf bolted on the wall and stripped off his fingerless glove, where his team's Pokéballs were clipped in the special magnetic strips in the wristband. He shelved it too, but with more care.

He showered, taking care to thoroughly scrub himself down, the scent of sandalwood and lemon—indulgence—bringing him a measure of calm, stripping off fatigue like the layer of dirt washing off his body. He turned off the shower and dried off, wrapping his towel around his waist as he exited the stall and put his glove back on.

A bank of sinks lined one side of the shower stalls, a mirror stretching out over individual sinks. Rye took a space and brushed his teeth and shaved. He washed his face, the cold water from the faucet washing away foam and bristle. He looked up and wiped the condensation fogging up the glass.

He looked normal.

XLX

Rye walked out of the store, supplies bagged and paid for. He was low on nonperishables, hard tack and jerky, ramen noodles, peanut butter—a Trainer's staples. He'd already had his dirty laundry washed and folded, tucked in his bag; heal items replenished, and his money deposited in his debit—he kept about three hundred and fifty in hard cash though, enough for emergencies.

He released Venero and Rostik, both Grass types looking up at him expectantly. He sat on a vacant bench just outside the grocer, sorting his goods and making sure he didn't forget anything. "We head south. To Fuschia."

His Pokémon nodded, understanding. Rye zipped up his bag, ready to go. Venero took to sticking close, fully rested for once since the past few days. Rostik hitched a ride on his shoulder, red eyes watching everything with a quiet, watchful intensity.

They were wary, with a lot of strange people and Pokémon in a new, strange place. Rye tried to push past his own discomfort, not being used to so much activity from civilization. He still reveled in the fact that he was free to do so—be out and about on his own terms, with no fear of being watched and tracked down, his movements monitored to the last second.

It was hard adjusting. Eighteen years of not knowing anything but selective seclusion, eyes always trained on him. But he was adaptable, a survivor, and so were his Pokémon. They'd cope.

There was no other choice.

At least, none that was palatable.


	6. And Where Shadows Sleep

A/N: So, sorry for the long time between updates but the story took a different direction and pulled me along with it. I blame peanut butter.

So, enjoy!

* * *

It'd never been in his destiny, or what he'd perceived to be his to be staring death in the face. And watch it stare back. "No." He said, his voice raspy, like gravel rolling down a steep incline.

"_Yes_." The voice was loud, echoing. He did not fear this power but it hurt, it rattled the core of his being. He did not dare move. He did not dare breathe. Not that he could. Each word was like a blow, pushing against his body, his _self_. "_You will do as told. I have not asked for anything, I have not ordered anything of you. But I am willing to do so_."

And that was the root of the problem. It could make him do what it wanted. The threat was there, beneath the words, like a dagger hidden in silk, fluid and deceitful. He would not have minded if it were only him. But there was one other. One he did not think he would care for. "I despise you."

It nodded regally and then vanished. And he was left, wondering why he was the one to bear this burden with sufferance. He did not want to but he did not have a choice. It was the way of gods and their games. Games where mortals always died. And _there was nothing that he could do_.

And so he waited.

XLX

"Shadow Claw!"

Artur dodged the sharp tendrils of darkness clawing at the water with Agility, coming out of the pond right at the Nidorina's back. He shot a Hydro Pump, the force of the attack sending the Nidorina skidding across the grass. Artur then switched to Ice Beam when the other Trainer frantically called out a Dig.

And then it was over. Artur trumpeted and did his usual victory somersault, making Rye grin.

Rye had been focusing on Artur for the past few days, getting a feel for his individual style in combat, and getting him caught up in levels with Venero and Rostik.

Artur was a precision type of battler. He liked attacking things from a distance with accurate and powerful moves. Maybe it was his namesake ability, Sniper, but he also didn't hesitate getting close with his opponents. He still had some maneuverability on land but he was more comfortable in the water. It made sense. Water was his natural element after all.

Rye received his winnings from his opponent while he sprayed Artur with Super Potion. He hadn't been badly injured from the battle but there were places where his scales had been torn off from one of the Nidorina's Fury Swipes attack. He didn't want to risk anything. "You did good today, Artur." He said softly. Artur's eyes shone, proud and smug and pleased.

He returned Artur then, and grabbed his backpack from where he'd left it on his side of the field. He was supposed to be near a Pokémon Center, according to his map. It was small, out of the way, and sat on the entrance to a valley that was the entrance to the forestbound route to Fuschia.

He was running low on a couple of supplies so he hoped that there was some sort of Mart out there. Then again, if there wasn't, he could rough it out in the wild. It wasn't like that was anything new.

XLX

Rostik screeched as a wash of blue flames passed just over his head. Rye scowled and gripped his Pokéball tight, rolling it agitatedly in his palm, the serpentine sticker smooth and squeaky against his calluses and scars. "Trip him up, Vine Whip."

The Charmeleon bathed the small area in flames, roaring and pounding his chest while Ros tried to duck and weave around the intense blasts. He was having difficulty. His body was built for precision strikes, sudden lurches in movement. He had fluid maneuverability but that didn't translate to economy in movement, unlike Venero. Rye blew out a breath through his mouth. Rostik had wanted to fight.

The battle had been going on for some time, ten, fifteen minutes. The other Trainer was getting frustrated as well. She hadn't expected an unevolved Grass type to last this long with her Charmeleon. "C'mon, Ares! Roast the little snake already!"

Her frustration rubbed at Rye, and his scowl deepened. "Get in close." Ros looked at him, aghast and horrified, and a little bit afraid. "Trust me."

"Sni-vy. Snivy, sni."

Rye nodded. "If it doesn't work, fine." He could have all the peanut butter he wanted if his plan botched.

Ros hissed and held out his vines, using them like another set of appendages, dodging and rolling and weaving Flamethrowers. Rye suppressed a wince when Ros' leg got caught in the edge of the flames. Ros didn't wince, didn't falter. He gritted his teeth, pushed through, got in close—"Muzzle him, pull back."

Ros' vine snapped upward wrapping around the Charmeleon's mouth, blue fire glinting at his throat. Both Trainer and Pokémon's eyes widened as Ros snapped that maw closed and jumped over the Charmeleon's horn, pulling his head up and back. Ros looked back at him and grinned, red eyes mischievous and triumphant.

It wasn't over yet. "Around the arms, heave and slam."

Ros wrapped the other vine around the Charmeleon's torso and pulled, slinging him one side, the Charmeleon grunting as the breath was knocked out of him. Ros did it again, this time with more ease, his uninjured leg the brace planted on the ground. The Charmeleon looked dazed, his tail flame sputtering before flaring to twice its size.

Blaze. Not good.

"Finish this, Ros." Rye's voice carried an undertone of urgency. One hit. One hit was all it would take to knock Ros out from a Blaze boosted Fire-type move.

That snapped his opponent into action. "Flare Blitz!"

For a second nothing happened and Ros hurriedly pulled his vines back. He limped hurriedly away, keeping his eyes trained on the Charmeleon, dazed and still on the ground. Rye was tense, gripping the ball tight; he didn't call out an attack. And Ros didn't move either. They didn't want to risk it. The Charmeleon didn't move but he was wreathed in a column of white-hot flames. The flames pushed outward, Ros' eyes narrowed. The Charmeleon got on all fours, charged as he roared—

And they were blinded by the light of one of the most intense Flare Blitz both of them had ever seen.

Rye shook his head and rubbed furiously at his eyes, spots dancing behind the dark of his eyelids from the glare of the attack. Ros lay on the ground, burned and unconscious, twitching slightly. He'd turned his back at the last minute and his edged tail was charred, smoking in some places.

Rye ran up to him, a Revive already in his hand. He noticed dimly that the Charmeleon was a little ways away, slumped over, his tail flame drooping again. He missed but the flames had gotten close enough to matter, to hurt. The attack took its toll on him too. He was conscious, though, breathing smoke through his nostrils as he stared at Ros with something akin to respect.

He got Ros woken up, his Snivy staring pitifully at him. "Sni…"

"It's fine." Rye said, spraying him down with one of his last Super Potions and grabbing the tube of the Rawst cream he'd made specifically for burns like this from his pocket. He'd used the peel and the seeds of the fruit, the leaves and the roots and the bark of the Rawst plant for the cream, extracting the liquids and mixing it with generic, odorless vitamin lotion. "You put up a hell of a fight. The lizard won't look down on you again."

He got a growl of agreement from behind. Rye ignored it in favor of rubbing Ros down gingerly with the bitter smelling cream. Ros sighed when the cream covered his burns, going limp and breathing more easily.

"Is he okay?" The other Trainer asked. Rye didn't know her name. Most of the battles in the wild went on like that, Rye realized. Experience or money or working on training up a Pokémon, they didn't need names. It was an unwritten rule that respected a Trainer's anonymity. Out in the wilds, they were just Trainers.

And that was enough.

"He'll be fine. He's tougher than he looks." Ros hissed at that and smacked him with a vine. Rye ignored that and gave her a portion of his money. "Thanks for the battle. Ros here hasn't had much experience against Fire types anyway."

"Oh. Well, you're welcome, I guess."

Her Charmeleon wandered closer and was having a silent staring contest with Rostik. Then the Charmeleon grinned, sharp fangs glistening and held out a closed claw. Ros grinned too and bumped that with a vine.

"We'll be going now." She said, smiling fondly as she returned her Pokémon. "And your—Snivy, was it?—well, he's pretty good. I don't know if I would've won that if he was evolved—he's still in his first stage, right?—so yeah. Well, bye now!"

Rye watched her briefly as she ran down the path. He sighed and continued lathering Ros with the cream. His burns would heal in half a day, a day at most, and he'd shed the scales that'd been burnt and charred. The rest would be taken care of with his photosynthesis.

"Snivy. Snivy-snivy. Sni-vy."

Rye was careful with Ros' leg. It was black, the scales practically burnt off. This would take time to heal. They needed to stay somewhere for a few days before continuing. "V was born with Dragonbreath though, Ros. You can't learn that."

Dragonbreath was a powerful move, especially handy for Venero when he fought against Fire types. It didn't beat back the flames but the cold fire buffered it, gave V enough to avoid the most of it.

"Snivy!" Ros glared at him.

"I didn't say you couldn't. I said you can't. Meant that it's physically impossible for you to learn the move." Rye said, rummaging around his bag for some bandages. "I'll teach you Aqua Tail instead."

"Sni?"

"_After_ you heal." He wrapped the bandages around Ros's leg, securing it tightly. He wiped his hands on the bottom of his shirt and put away the cream and the bandages. Ros stood up gingerly, looking odd with the darker green of his scales and the green of the Rawst cream. "That move is hard as hell to teach to non-Water types."

XLX

Rye was swimming with Artur in a large lake; the crystal blue waters just the right temperature for play. Artur swam circles around him, trumpeting loudly, happily. Rye grinned, watching as a school of Magikarp swam by, the red of their scales glistening underwater.

Artur twirled and danced underwater, warranting the notice of other Pokémon in the lake. Wooper and Quagsire smiling dopily at them; Poliwag curiously flitting about; a small school of Tentacool that mostly left them alone but watched closely. Rye had his hunting knife strapped to his leg so he didn't worry about any Pokémon attacking. Besides that, Artur wouldn't let anything happen to him.

They played for a few more minutes, Rye resurfacing a little while later since he needed to breathe. He followed Artur up, the light from the noon sun dancing across the lake's surface, like glittering honey. He swam for the shore, seeing Venero sunning himself and Rostik eating, dipping spicy jerky in a jar of peanut butter.

Venero looked at him when he reached the grassy knoll where they camped near the lake. He'd found the spot three days ago after the battle with the Charmeleon. It was a good spot with a body of water nearby and none of the aggressive wild Pokémon to contend with.

Rostik waved at him with peanut buttery claws. He was healing very nicely. His scales shinier, his tail and his leg free of burns.

Rye was in a good mood. Ros was feeling better, he had his Pokémon, the day was nice and pleasantly warm, and they had food and quiet. He couldn't really ask for better.

Rye turned back to the lake, watching Artur swimming around. He roughly toweled off the excess water dripping off his skin. "You go on ahead, buddy. Play some more."

Artur trumpeted again, spinning in the water and dived down, ripples flowering where he'd been a second ago. Rye watched until the ripples were gone before sitting on the grass with V and Ros. Ros offered him some jerky, dipped in shiny, smooth peanut butter. Rye tore off a chunk with his teeth, Ros stubbornly clinging to the end bits with his claws. A piece freed, he chewed, sweet and salt and nutty and spicy. Like old times. Only better.

"Snivy?"

"Yeah, it's good." Rye said, running his tongue over his teeth. "The best."

Ros grinned at him and ate some more. Rye didn't mind the drain on their supplies. They were close to the Center anyway, at least according to the map.

"We're going to work on Aqua Tail a little bit later, Ros." He said, tilting his head back so the sun was hitting the back of his head, his eyes trained on blue and soft clouds lazily drifting across the sky. A flock of Hoppip drifted across the drafts, their pink bodies floating with the wind, chirping and calling to each other. Rye couldn't discern words but the tone was happy and light. Ros was healed enough and he promised.

Rostik hissed an affirmative and continued eating, dipping his claws in the peanut butter and licking it off. It was pretty disgusting but he left him to it.

Rye watched Artur play with the locals, Magikarp and Wooper laughing near the shore. V was sunning himself, as Grass types were during days like this.

Rye allowed himself to lean back and closed his eyes. It was a good day.

XLX

They reached the Pokémon Center a week later.

It was a two story building made of red-brown bricks and that standard red roof with the Pokéball logo. The doors were pulled open, the tiles a patterned diamond blue and red. The walls were a warm, sunny yellow, with framed pictures of Nurse Joy and her aides in front of the Center, Pokémon and people.

The lobby was modest, with a television mounted on the wall, facing two comfortable looking couches, playing a live broadcast of the Victory Road. There weren't many people there so Rye didn't have to wait in line to get his team checked out. This route to Fuschia was rarely traveled, after all. He handed Nurse Joy his Pokéballs and waited by the counter since she told him it would only take about five minutes to get them fighting fit.

V and Ros had photosynthesis to speed up their healing, and Artur was just tired.

He browsed through several magazines and today's paper, checked out some of the jobs lined up on the notice board as he waited. Mostly helping with the upkeep of the Center, utility services, maintenance work. Night guard duty around the Center. It was fairly isolated, cities and towns and villages requiring a few days hike to traverse, and it paid decently anyway.

Nurse Joy gave him back his Pokémon and asked if he would like to rent a room. He did and hurried to the second floor where his room, 215, was waiting for him. He let V and Rostik out, Artur splashing in the large aquarium on the other side of the room.

He took a shower, said his good nights even though it was afternoon, and slept, Ros curled up beside him and V leaning against the headboard on his other side, Artur swimming lazily in his tank. It had been a long day and the comforts of a real bed with sheets that smelled like lemons and sunlight lulled him to sleep.

He was out a couple of beats later.

XLX

"_Hey Rye! I'm at Pewter City now! Kirk and Hope managed to master Dig and Giga Drain right after we finished crossing Diglett Cave. There were a few Trainers crossing so I went with them a bit before heading off on my own. They just wanted to get to Pewter faster but I wanted to explore a bit so I did. I found some very neat things down there! I don't know what most of them are, I think they're evolution stones but I'm not sure._

"_I found other things too but I'll have the Pewter Museum appraise them, see if anything's valuable. I'm gonna challenge Brock in a week or so, get some more training in, maybe catch a new Pokémon or something._

"_Anyway, that's all. I'll see you whenever, Rye. Oh, and Kirk and Hope said hi!"_

The message was cut with Ham grinning at him on the computer screen, Hope pecking the LCD and Kirk sniffing curiously under his chin. The message was time-stamped as being two weeks ago. Rye smiled slightly. He hadn't expected the message but he admitted it was nice. He typed up his reply then punched the send key.

It was about four in the morning, his Pokémon asleep in their Pokéballs but for Venero. He was always awake when Rye was up. He had plans to cross the valley later, about eight for an early start. The forest there was thick and treacherous, and according to Nurse Joy, though it didn't have a name, it was famous for getting travelers lost. Part of the reason the route was less traveled.

But people did come there, usually experienced Trainers with strong fliers and Psychics. Rye didn't have either but he'd manage.

There was a Mart next door but it wouldn't open until six in the morning so Rye headed for the training grounds at the back of the Center. Ros needed to work on Aqua Tail and Artur could use the time in the pool. He didn't know if they'd be able to stumble upon a huge enough body of water for him to swim in later on.

There were four blocks at the back, about the size of an official League battlefield, separated by mesh fencing supported by thick steel posts. Two blocks were plain hard-packed dirt, one was concrete on one half, and a pool on the other, and the last was a huge pool, sealed with a huge tarp since it wasn't in use. People battled there, or practiced attacks, or played spectator. The place was currently empty, the lights turned off for the night.

Rye, with Venero following lazily beside him, took a spot in one of the blocks, the one with the water half, and swiped his Trainer Card on the slot, unlocking the fence and activated the lights for his block. Stadium lights shone overhead, shadows playing across the battlefield.

He removed the tarp covering the pool half and folded it neatly with Venero's help, and set it aside. Then the both of them stood there, looking at the murky gray water and the lights playing off of the erratic surface.

"It's odd, isn't it?" Rye said, arms crossed, head down. "That we'd ever feel this comfortable."

"Tree?" Venero sat by his feet, leaning slightly against his leg.

"This, traveling. Being a Trainer. I enjoy it, I never used to—you know that better than anybody. It's been my whole life and… there hasn't really been a choice. I'm good at it so it's always been the only avenue available for me." His arms uncrossed, his hand touching his Pokéballs, all secure on his wristband.

"Treecko. Treecko-tree. Tree-treecko-treecko."

Rye chuckled. "I know. I never knew battles could be fun too."

"Treecko?"

"No regrets. Never had." Maybe that made him a bad person. He didn't find in him to care about that. His life had never been his, not until now. He wouldn't look back.

Because it didn't matter. Everything would still be there, in the back of his mind in his waking moments, hammering at his eyes in dreams. It didn't matter.

All that mattered to him was on his glove.

XLX

The first day in the valley was fine. There weren't a lot of wild Pokémon in the day, and the few that he had glimpsed were too wary or too timid to approach. They made decent time, covering a lot of ground at least. Venero scouted ahead, at home in the maze of branches and leaves up high, forging a path that Rye followed since there wasn't a clear Trainer path.

In the evening though, was when they had difficulty. The forest came _alive_. Ghost and Bug and Dark type Pokémon became active. Houndoom howled in the night, answered by the distinct growling bays of Mightyena. Rye wasn't worried. He hadn't crossed their territory since there wasn't any telltale scorch marks on trees and rocks that marked the Houndoom's territory.

And Mightyena lived in more open spaces. They didn't like the forest where there were a lot of potential places to hide. They were predators and had keen senses but they were lazy hunters.

The Ghosts were mostly Misdreavus, out to cause mischief. They screeched in the night, causing things in the forest to shriek and squawk in panic. There were Ghastly too, the sudden freezing temperatures announcing their presence. Venero beat them back with Dragonbreath that had them fleeing with panicked, haunting cackles.

The second day was much the same but this time, they were marginally more prepared than yesterday. Rye and his team trekked through the forest, cautious and careful, the pace they set ensuring that they covered more ground. He didn't want them staying any longer than they had to.

The third day they came across a lake. And a Gyarados. They didn't want to talk about it.

Fourth and fifth day, nothing to write home about. Rye accidentally burned the stew and Ros glared at him while shoveling "_slop"_ in his mouth, shuddering and moaning about his "poor, poor taste buds." Rye had been tempted to boil him in water for that but resisted that urge. Barely.

And because Artur shot him with a Hydro Pump to "wash away the taste of slop."

The sixth day, was the day he died.


End file.
